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My story of life would be basically about the struggle for identity and understanding. A string of events, of influential to monotonous occurrences that somehow form a cohesive whole, even if they don't make sense in the form of a glorified run-on sentence, but simply stick together because they express the facts of one's life. People wandering in and out of life, events that never seem to do more than scratch the surface of who I am, because they almost never succeed in breaking through to what lies beneath to alter the state of operations. The core is the variety of experiences, and that hopefully in the long run they serve to educate without brainwashing, without engraining stereotyped thinking.
I'd be sure to partially devote and focus my writing on a character I met in a hotel parking lot in Texas in April 2001, on how a homeless, schizophrenic wanderer seemed to have a better grasp on whom he was and his role in life than most anyone I meed, simply because he understood the pointlessness and he was able to separate himself from humanity's madness.
There might be a book in all this somewhere, and yes, I think people would pay attention long enough to read it.
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